I fear for you; I think of you with a heavy heart. I imagine hiding you like Anne Frank. I imagine Hollywood movie magic in which a young lookalike would swap places with you and let you flee to safety — if there is any safety in this world of extreme rendition and extrajudicial execution by the government that you and I were born under and that you, until recently, served.
“…our wars of machines and technology make ‘progress’ ever more impersonal and deadly – a ‘progress’ that has not guaranteed man’s human, moral, and civil growth.” Ermanno Olmi
The Tree of Wooden Clogs – (Al Pacino’s favorite film)
Documentary of Kounellis by E. Olmi. Jannis Kounellis (previous post)
The idea for the film had its origin in the mid 1980s, when Tarr heard Krasznahorkai retell the story of Nietzsche’s breakdown, and ended it by asking what happened to the horse.
“Despite the fierce look, Mayakovsky does not look authoritarian, he appears, instead, defenceless. It is like a still from an American movie rather than a Russian one, a major criminal caught in the lens of the law. He is pictured against a wall, as if he were Public Enemy Number One, or, rather, the enemy cornered just before his perfectly legal street execution, with no trial. He is not holding a weapon, but some sheets of paper, and that is the only thing that seems out of keeping with his otherwise harmonious figure, unless the sheets of paper are not, as one fears and regrets, poems, but pamphlets he was reading to a crowd from a platform. He is an ill-tempered or perhaps a hounded man, but, as revealed by that determinedly wide stance, unwilling to give in or surrender even if they riddle him with bullets. The most striking and most resolute thing of all, however, are his shoes, so remarkable that they slightly invade the turn-ups of his beautifully pressed trousers: one could not give up such shoes even at the moment of death.”
November 10, 1964: Ingmar Bergman and Charlie Chaplin enjoy a long conversation about movies and other subjects in Chaplin’s room at the Stockholm Grand Hotel. Chaplin was in the Swedish capital in connection with the publication of his autobiography in Scandinavia.
”CELESTE,’…. is a small-scale, remarkable little film based on ”Mr. Proust.” This is the memoir of Celeste Albaret who, for nine years before Proust died in 1922, was his cook, companion, secretary, friend and surrogate mother during the creation of ”Remembrance of Things Past.”
The second reason is that Akerman’s austere but excellent film removes all Proust’s softening diversions. Gone are the reflections on art and memory, as well as a 100-page musical soirée. This is Proust without the costume drama, without wit or social comedy, but with his vision of love as possession accentuated.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
To be separated from Mama
Where would you like to live?
In the country of the Ideal, or, rather, of my ideal
What is your idea of earthly happiness?
To live in contact with those I love, with the beauties of nature, with a quantity of books and music, and to have, within easy distance, a French theater
To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
To a life deprived of the works of genius
Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
Those of romance and poetry, those who are the expression of an ideal rather than an imitation of the real – (continues…>)
“We were very odd, I think, in relation to our neighbors. We had enormous sculptures in our backyard that were really the size of a house. But we had an incredibly rich family life,” recalls Smith. “Our interior life was really fascinating. It was more fascinating to me than what was happening outside.”
That interior life included a death mask her father made of his mother. Years later, Kiki Smith would also make death masks of her father and younger sister.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms’ fairy tales to the newspapers’ front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
David Foster Wallace described Steps as a “collection of unbelievably creepy little allegorical tableaux done in a terse elegant voice that’s like nothing else anywhere ever”. Wallace continued in praise: “Only Kafka’s fragments get anywhere close to where Kosiński goes in this book, which is better than everything else he ever did combined.